


Stories

by coffee_maker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_maker/pseuds/coffee_maker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra and Varric. Includes tales, tents and touches. Or the lack of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter story after a handful of shorter drabbles. Hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to [Saphir](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphir/pseuds/Saphir) for proof-reading! You are doing a marvellous job :).

"And when Daisy had frozen the dragon's paws onto the ground, Hawke pushed its jaws firmly together and looked straight into its eyes. I swear she was flirting with–"

"Bullshit. That's not what really happened," a firm voice with Nevarran accent interrupted Varric's tall tale. When he looked in the voice's direction, he could see her lips almost curving instead of the blatant sneer that so often had accompanied their conversations, and the tone was lacking her usual disdain. _That's new._

"Ooooh Seeker, would you care to finish the story for me, then?" Varric drawled and raised an eyebrow at her. She waved a hand, dismissively.

"Go on, Varric, I'm sure it's a good story."

He looked at the Inquisitor and saw his own surprise mirrored in her eyes. The dwarf brushed the emerging thought aside and continued with his story.

"So Hawke had the dragon's jaws clenched together and the beast looked all cross-eyed at her while she gave it a seductive look for a few seconds. Then–," he paused meaningfully, "she pulled her sword back and swiftly buried it in the dragon's soft spot, right below its jaw. I guess it was never meant to be for them," Varric said with a mock-sad voice to his enraptured audience.

"The next thing I hear is 'Pay up, Fenris!' They had a _bet_ on Hawke's notoriety to flirt with every breathing thing. Something Broody wasn't too happy about, I might add," he concluded with a smirk.

The audience broke out in laughter and he cast a quick glance at the Seeker. She was smiling. _Good_.

After all that mess with Hawke –and Bianca– it was good to see that tentative companionship... or friendship? Anyway, it was good to see it again. He ordered another ale.

***

The main hall was sparsely filled with nobles and the occasional messenger. Gatsi was standing in front of one of the mosaics, the only finished one so far. Varric saw him scribbling something in a note book. He'd never thought the stone mason would mix the craftsmanship of the old Tevene tiles and ancient legends into a story. Hell, usually it was only him with the stories.

The dwarf sat at his low desk and winced at the pile of parchment in front of him. He had been working through quite a bit already, but he always procrastinated the unpleasant ones. So, instead of answering the ones from the Merchant Guild, he had been writing _Hard in Hightown_. That unbearable, terrible, awful book by the yet unknown asshole, published in _his_ name, needed an answer.

A _real_ sequel, written by him.

"Varric, do you have a minute? In private?" He startled. Trevelyan stood suddenly in front of him, looking at him with a deliberately neutral expression. _Not good._

"Sure," Varric hopped off his stone chair and they went to the door. "Battlements?"

They talked about the upcoming missions on their way up until they stood at the parapets. "So?" Varric looked up to the Inquisitor. She took a deep breath.

"Varric, I don't mean to meddle but... I think you should know that I offered Bianca Davri work and protection here–" she paused and looked at him. He visibly stiffened and braced himself against what was inevitably coming.

"She could start a new life, like others already have here. She would be safe here, and we all would look to that, I told her. She didn't want any of it. She preferred to go back to her husband. She didn't even think about it for a second.” Barely leashed anger seeped through at Trevelyan's last few words, but when she looked at him again, her face was soft and there was so much pity in her eyes. Too much. Varric felt like he was hit by a maul.

“She left you a long time ago. Let it go, Varric," she added, and it almost sounded like a plea.

Varric shifted from one foot to the other and looked at a random point behind the Inquisitor's shoulder.

"You’re right, you shouldn't have meddled," was all he managed to press out between clenched teeth, and then he fled her presence.

He remembered the last time he had felt this painful void in his chest only too well, the last time he had felt so hollow that he hardly could breathe. His mind wandered to Bianca and how she'd stood him up and then later told him about the arranged marriage she planned to comply with. Nausea almost made his stomach turn. He couldn't bear this hurt once more.

He stalked stiffly to his quarters, curtly waving off people who wanted to talk to him. In his room, he rummaged through his cupboard, fishing out a bottle of Orzammar's not necessarily finest, but definitely strongest, and a glass. Looking at the glass for a second, he put it back. He wouldn't need a glass tonight. He sat down, staring holes into the air while unshed tears stung in his eyes and he tried to numb the fierce pain by emptying the whole bottle alone. He wouldn't remember how he got into his bed and he really didn't give a fuck.

***

Varric happily embraced all the work Trevelyan loaded onto his shoulders in the following weeks, if only to make sure he was too tired to think about anything in the evenings. He didn't get any writing done like that, though. And he just _knew_ that, sooner or later, the Seeker would come pestering him about another chapter of _Swords and Shields_.

He groaned inwardly at that thought and, for approximately the onehundredfiftyseventh time, he cursed himself for giving in to the Inquisitor in the first place. It had seemed such a good idea at that time, considering it was a peace offering to appease a ready-to-kill furious Seeker. The look on her face, her happiness, had been something he'd never expected. He smiled genuinely for the first time in days at the memory. Completely worth it.

It actually stroked his writer's ego that _she_ liked his stories, of all people. He sighed as he looked at the Seeker's back in front of him.

The current task had sent their small party to the Hinterlands, again. It seemed like there was an ever-refilling supply of red templars and every damned time they went there, they had to slay through them.

"Don't forget to pick up some elfroot," Trevelyan had said, and to Cassandra with a wink, "and leave the bears alone." The Seeker had just made her very own disgusted noise in response, but it somehow sounded more amused than actually disgusted. Varric thought that he had even caught a quick wrinkling of a smile around her eyes.

"Dorian, where did you put the stakes for our tents?" Cassandra demanded to know after she decided they should make camp. Her sharp voice pulled Varric out of his thoughts. She hated looking for things that were supposed to be in order.

"In the bag with the cords, just as yesterday, and the day before and–" Dorian was cut short by an angry Seeker.

"They are not there!"

"And any of the other bags?"

"I'm looking now," she rummaged through a few of their rucksacks and bags. "Where are those–," her string of curses was swallowed by muttering. "Maker, that can't be! We've only been on the road for two days, and you are already losing things," she turned and accused the mage, almost yelling at him.

"Hey, I did put them in there but _your_ horse has been carrying them!" Dorian fired back. Varric rolled his eyes. Better start building the camp fire as long as they were sorting this out.

"I cannot find them. They are not here," the Seeker said a couple of minutes later, and her mood seemed to be even worse than before.

"Somebody has to share then," Dorian told nobody in particular, "And it won't be me."

"Why should I be sharing? With Varric? _You_ are responsible for the tents!" The Seeker was audibly aggravated.

"Wait, I'm not going to share. These tents are too small as is, and my shoulders are very broad," Varric protested.

"But I need my sleep undisturbed. And Varric snores!" Dorian intercepted the dwarf's threadbare reasoning.

"If we cannot come to a conclusion otherwise, we'll draw straws every night until we can replace the stakes at the main camp," the Seeker said exasperatedly. She was getting short-tempered with Dorian's perpetual complaints.

Two tents for three people it was. _Well._

The dwarf ripped something out of the soil in front of him.

"Pick," Varric offered three blades of grass to his fellow travel mates. "The short one gets the single tent," he quickly added. Cassandra and Dorian drew and Varric was left with a long blade. _Damn._

"Ha!" Dorian exclaimed smugly and presented his blade, "You two get to share." He swaggered to the tent and cast a glance over his shoulder at the Seeker.

"And behave, my dear." She shot him a murderous glare back.

Varric just rolled his eyes again. So the Seeker. Tent sharing trope. Two people that hardly get along. _Great._

They shared their food in silence, and after washing up, Cassandra went into the tent without any further word, preparing for the night and only exiting to complete her nightly rituals. Varric kept wondering what she was doing for so long. Surely washing her face, brushing her teeth and whatever else she had to do couldn't be taking so long? He gave her some time for privacy after she got back, and as the busy rustling in the tent died down after a few minutes, he moved to the tent flap.

"Finished?"

"Yes," came the short answer, and when he crawled inside to grab his wash-bag, she was rolled on her side, facing away from his bed roll. Fine, he could work with that.

"Don't peek, Seeker," he said when he finally got back from the little stream. He only got a muffled grunt in response. Undressing was laborious –his shoulders _were_ broad and the Seeker took up some of the small space– but finally, he wriggled under the blankets.

"Good night, Varric."

"G'night."

 _She_ obviously didn't have any problems with sleeping next to him, as he could hear her steady breathing only a few minutes later.

_Wonderful._

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! You make my day :). Hope you guys like the new chapter!

Cassandra woke up when it was still dark outside and only a little light filtered through the tent walls from the flickering fire outside. Not yet time to get up, she thought, and took a look at the man's face close to her. During the night, they both must have turned and moved closer. Varric's body was a sturdy mountain under his thin blanket. Her cover was much thicker and she was close to _freezing_.

She darted her hand out to check if he was cold but retracted it sharply before she reached him. He wouldn't appreciate being touched by her in the middle of the night. Not after she interrogated him so... exhaustively and threw a table at him after she'd found out about his lies about the Champion. And they honestly didn't have the sort of friendship which would justify physical contact like that.

She watched his chest moving up and down evenly, and –contrary to Dorian's claim– there wasn't any snoring. His hair was a mess, sticking out of his face in interesting angles. His features were relaxed, the crooked nose softer in the warm light and his chin raspy as ever. She wondered how he managed to always be stubbly; she'd never seen him clean-shaven.

The Seeker ruefully smiled at her random thoughts and fell asleep again.

***

Every evening, they would draw straws, and it seemed Cassandra and Varric ended up with each other more often than any other combination of sleeping arrangements. Varric didn't mind anymore since the Seeker probably wasn't set to murder him in his sleep. And she didn't snore. Her nose just sometimes whistled in this cute – _when the hell did he start pairing the Seeker with that kind of adjective?_ – in this whistle–y whistling way.

One night, she turned around to him and addressed him, with more than a bit of embarrassment in her voice, "Varric? Would you tell me a story?" He looked at her in surprise but at the same time, he was too pleased to mock, and started to spin a tale for her.

After a particularly exciting part of the narration, he noticed that she wasn’t reacting anymore. Like, not at all. He looked at her closed eyes and listened to her smooth breathing. She was asleep.

He shook his head slightly and tucked the blanket in around him. A picture of a smiling and sleeping Seeker stayed in his head until he fell asleep.

***

Varric woke up to a warm presence next to him. When he opened his eyes, the Seeker's face was only a few inches away. Her dark eyelashes laid innocently on her cheeks, but he knew the eyes below the lids could light up like a forge when she was in anger. Or when she passionately talked about his romance serials. He felt warm and tugged his blanket a bit down.

A hint of a smile was still on her lips, and she was walking in the Fade, if the fast movements of her eyes beneath the lids were any indication. The scar on her left cheek reminded him of their skirmish on the way from Kirkwall. A group of bandits had thought a small party like theirs would be an easy target. They were wrong, obviously, but the bandit leader left the Seeker with a remaining souvenir. It had looked gruesome before it healed, but now it didn't disfigure her, not at all.

Her breath barely brushed his chin and it felt like a cautious caress. He detected a small thought swimming through his brain and he immediately shut it out. The bad thing about those kind of thoughts, though, was that the less you wanted to think them, the more they made themselves known. But she probably would rather run her very pointed sword through him than appreciate that he thought she was pretty.

She looked peaceful. He scooted a tiny bit back –just in case their closeness would startle her when she woke, he didn't want to get punched in the head, after all– closed his eyes, and fell back asleep just as peacefully.

***

"Seeker, I can't believe that you fell asleep on me last night before I even finished." Varric shot her a glance during breakfast to estimate her reaction on the innuendo, but only Dorian looked up curiously.

"It is not the first time that I went to bed with one of your stories," she answered, casually stirring her porridge.

"What?!" Dorian almost choked on his tea and looked at her.

"Pray tell, is it with the latest chapter of _Swords and Shields_?" He went on with a smirk and waggled his eyebrows, leaving another innuendo to be filled by the gentle listener. Cassandra instantly blushed.

"We need to prepare for traveling," was her short, clipped answer and she stood up and started packing.

Varric's mind was haunted by images of a scantily-clad Seeker, looking up at him between her eyelashes and with one of his books in bed for the main part of the day. It did things to him that were better left unsaid in case he wanted to stay alive.

***

"Varric, are you going to continue that story?" Cassandra mumbled two days later when they ended up in one tent again.

"Is it true what Dorian said?" he retorted and added _that you're in bed and maybe with not much covering your tan skin when you read my smutty literature_ , but only mentally. He liked living and breathing, and didn't want to pursue those thoughts about the Seeker, anyway. _Maker's balls._

She turned around and looked at him, "That I have been reading your books in bed? Yes. What of it?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to know if you were really going to bed with _me_ ," he winked at her and harvested a scowl. He schooled his expression into something more serious. "Alright, when did you fall asleep the last time? Ah yes. So, during the next day, the warrior..."

He could tell that the Seeker tried to stay up this time, but she only managed a handful of minutes longer than the last time. Varric started to think that his storytelling talents were going downhill, but instead of closing his eyes and trying to find some sleep himself, he reached out to her cheek and traced her cheekbone gently with his finger tips.

He wasn't sure what exactly he was doing or even _why_ , but when she sighed and a small happy twist played around the corner of her lips, he envied her sweet dreams.

***

"You gotta be kidding, we made the whole trip for this shitty piece of wood?" Varric looked incredulously at the patch of dirt they had been digging around in. "Really, there has to be a chest with something in it. Gold, jewelry, another map!"

Cassandra looked at the three pieces of Ironbark they had found close to a waterfall, exactly where the map indicated. She felt her anger rising. Varric was right, although she would hardly admit to it. This had been such a waste of time. Time she could have spent on serious and more pressing matters. The only good thing was that they'd cleared out a few red templar camps on their way to the waterfall. She tried to calm herself down with a mental routine her former Seeker trainer had taught her.

"Well, it's great that this didn't take as long, isn't it?” Dorian said cheerfully, turning a blind eye to the others' bad mood. "Now we can go back to the Crossroads, and tomorrow we'll go back to Skyhold."

"Yes, how lovely. Can't wait to be traipsing through the landscape again," Varric retorted sarcastically.

"Maybe we should send a rook to Skyhold and see if there's anything else to do here," Cassandra said. _Maybe another map, leading to more nonsense loot._ She made a low growling sound and then pretended she hadn't done anything when the two men looked at her, more than a bit disturbed.

Their walk along the river was in silence, only interrupted by the occasional curse about the slippery ground, water in boots, or bears in general. They picked up their horses at the Upper Lake camp, where they had to leave them earlier due to the dense brushwood on the way to the map mark, but they still arrived at the Crossroads late in the evening. Cassandra went straight to the local Inquisition rookery to send the news about their find to the Inquisitor and ask for new orders.

She approved of the determination the people here were showing to rebuild everything, now that they were safe under the protection of the Inquisition. It was still makeshift, but they've managed an infirmary, an open-air chantry, and they've rebuilt the inn. Their small party was lucky to be sleeping under a reed roof tonight instead of just canvas.

The Seeker didn't expect an answer from Skyhold before the evening of the next day, so they might as well spend the morrow patrolling troublesome parts in the vicinity. She sighed. It would be hard to drag Varric out of bed tomorrow morning. Probably even harder to encourage him to go to bed early tonight, so he would be able to get up tomorrow. The prospect made her tense.

Maybe she should find a few dummies to let off steam before facing the inevitable confrontation with the dwarf.

***


	3. Chapter 3

"We have reports on bandit activity north of here, on the road to Redcliffe, Seeker," the scout pointed at an area on the map.

"How far away from here?" Cassandra compared her map with the big one on the table.

"About four to five miles, Seeker."

"Alright. Let's get the horses and put the bandits to justice," Cassandra said, looking at Varric's grumpy and tired face.

She felt a sense of gratification. It wasn't her fault that he had had too many beers and went to bed late last night, too busy with telling tales. It also wasn't her fault that he wouldn't get up this morning, not even after the third time she had called out to him.

It _was_ her fault, however, that she finally had pulled his blanket away and stood dumbstruck at the sight of his bare chest with the slightly unruly hair on it. Her hand had twitched subconsciously. He did have broad shoulders, and his arms were muscular enough to let her mouth go dry. Big arms with thick, coiled muscles, surely exceeding her in strength, no matter how well trained she was. She imagined how they would feel beneath her hands. Or even her lips. Smooth but with a scar here and there, flexing and moving under her touch. Too bad that they usually were covered by armor. Something hot coiled in her belly.

Funny, to think that they've been sharing a tent for many nights and she never dared a glimpse at him when he was getting ready for sleeping. She felt a deep pink creeping up her neck again at her thoughts, and she quickly turned to the stables.

_Andraste preserve me, think of his dour face and how much he doesn't like me, not his arms. He's taken._

***

They didn't find any bandits that day, but they stumbled across another mosaic piece, well-hidden in a ruin near the rift the Inquisitor had closed a few months ago, and they all knew Trevelyan would be delighted. Back at the Crossroads later that afternoon, a message by rook was waiting for them: "No further tasks in the H. at the moment, come back to S."

***

"I'm so delighted to have my tent back," Dorian said when they sat together at the fire on an evening on their way back to the Frostback Mountains. "Nobody's snoring next to me anymore!"

"Varric doesn't snore," Cassandra disagreed.

"The Seeker only whistles a little," Varric said at the same time.

They looked at each other, a bit alarmed, and he saw a shade of red darkening her cheeks. He felt warmth on his face, too.

"But it's nice to have my privacy back," the Seeker remarked, looking at her hands in her lap. He nodded slowly. _Yes. Nice_.

"Varric?" Cassandra looked at him and he could've sworn that there was some shyness in her amber eyes. "What happens next? In the story, I mean. The one you've been telling me."

Dorian's face must have been adorned with a shit-eating grin, but when Varric turned his head, the mage's face was unusually blank. The dwarf shook his head; perhaps he was imagining things.

"Come here, Seeker, I don't want to ruin my voice because I have to yell so you can hear," he patted the bedroll they had spread out to use as makeshift seating. "And tell me when you're falling asleep. I keep repeating the story for you because you miss half of it." She growled softly and he grinned and started to tell his tale.

"... and we all couldn't believe our eyes! Hawke was standing there in his birthday suit and... Ah, Seeker?" he raised an eyebrow at her. She had curled herself up, next to where he sat on the bedroll. She lifted her head and looked at him.

"What? I'm still awake. Go on, I'm listening," she replied. He didn't blink and continued.

"... in his birthday suit, and Isabela almost jumped him right away. But we first had to get those slavers, so we organized some armor and..."

He heard a familiar whistling sound a few minutes later and stopped mid-sentence. She'd fallen asleep on him, again. He felt a bit irritated but at the same time, it was somehow endearing. The stern, pious, brash Seeker, falling asleep while he told her stories.

He wondered if somebody had read her bedtime stories when she was a little princess with long dark hair and shining eyes. Now her haircut was short and practical, except for what he by himself called her rat tail, wound around her head like a crown. A crown for the warrior queen she was. But her eyes, they still were shining sometimes. Sometimes they were shining even at him, when he was spinning tales.

Her head was way too close to his lap and still not close enough. While he tried to rid his mind of those thoughts, his hand reached out to her on its own.

A log cracked in the fire and it pulled him back into reality, and Dorian's presence.

He jerked his arm back and looked anywhere but in the mage's direction. _Maker's ass_ , he had almost combed his fingers through her hair.

_Damnit. Don't get out of something without a future just to run into something just as impossible._

***

When they arrived in Skyhold, the Inquisitor summoned the three of them to a war council right away. Grumbling something about taking a bath (Dorian), checking the pile of reports (Cassandra) and having a nice, cold ale (Varric), they stepped into the big room. Leliana and Josephine were standing in a corner, talking in low voices, and Cullen adjusted the markers according to the latest scout reports.

"Josephine has arranged a small celebration in honor of our dignified guests," Trevelyan started, and Varric could sense the Seeker going rigid immediately. "I know you won't like it too much, with just getting back after this long trip, but your attendance is required."

Cassandra made an unintelligible noise at that. Cullen lifted his head and gave her a funny look. Varric was fascinated by the multitude of emotions that started to show on the Seeker's face.

"Dress up nicely, we need the money and influence our guests provide. Cass, Josephine and Leliana have picked a dress for you. Try it, so we can have the seamstress make adjustments, if necessary."

"What?!" Cassandra sounded aghast and terrified.

Varric's lively imagination immediately played out the possible scenarios.

 

The Seeker throttling the Inquisitor.

The Seeker ripping the dress in two.

The Seeker arranging a spar and getting hurt on purpose so she didn't have to go.

The Seeker in a gown which clung just nicely to all the right places with a _very_ low cut cleavage that hugged her ample breasts, showing off the soft skin which must be somewhere under all that heavy armor.

 

_Wait, where did that last thought come from?_ He hence missed the short discussion between the women, but judging from the look on the Seeker's face, she had given in, with kicking feet probably.

"Reports can wait, get ready for the party.”  The Inquisitor clapped her hands and added, "Dorian, I still need your advice on the project we talked about a few weeks ago."

***

She made sure that everyone else had left the room when she turned to him and said quickly, "Tell me everything! What happened?"

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Let me make this short. I lost some stakes for the tents and they had plenty of opportunities to work something out. But they both are either too stubborn or totally oblivious."

"Damn," muttered Trevelyan. "What now?"

"A nudge won't help, they need a stout-hearted shove," Dorian remarked dryly.

"You know they won't thank us if we shoved them anywhere, especially Cass. Any ideas for tonight?"

"What kind of dress did you get for Cassandra?"

"One that hopefully will open Varric's eyes.” The Inquisitor winked and a big self-satisfied smile played her lips.

"Josephine got a handful of propositions for Cassandra's hand in marriage, though. She will throw a fit if she finds out. But what do you think about..." she continued with a low voice as an idea came to her mind.

***

"This is ridiculous, I am NOT going to wear this! I cannot move properly; how would I defend the Inquisitor? And where would I put my sword in the first place?!" Cassandra's voice was loud enough to be heard at the entrance of the smithy.

"Cass, this event is extremely important for the Inquisition," Trevelyan interjected the Nevarran's rant after she took the last steps. "Take two daggers with you, if it makes you feel better. I know it'll make _me_ feel better knowing that you are armed." She took a closer look at the Seeker and smiled appreciatively.

"You look stunning! Josephine picked just the perfect color and design for you. And I know that Leliana picked equally perfect shoes to go with this dress, too." She took a step forward and held a small leather pouch in her hand.

"Would you do me the honor and wear this necklace? It's triple enchanted, of course, so it will have a purpose beyond this celebration," she quickly added, seeing Cassandra's frown getting deeper.

"I need to be able to move in this dress, Inquisitor," Cassandra began to sound a bit petulant.

"Madame Laclare, will there be enough time to add a slit on the side of the dress? Like let's say mid-thigh or a bit higher?" The Inquisitor asked the seamstress. When the latter nodded, she added, "Very well. A slit on the left side of the dress it is. You should be able to move better then, Cassandra."

The Seeker's facial expression showed a wild mixture of feelings, but Trevelyan decided to ignore them happily. So if her friend wanted to be able to move, she'd have to show off some skin. Period.

_Maybe this will be just enough of a shove for Varric to notice what's right in front of him_ , she thought to herself when she moved to the door. _Or maybe not_ , she sighed, silently cursing and went downstairs.

***

Dorian was standing next to Varric and the bar with the drinks. Of course, it was pure coincidence that they had a good view of the entrance to the hall. And of course, it was just as pure of a coincidence that Cassandra hadn't made her appearance yet as they were watching the entrance.

"Do you think she will come, at all?" Dorian asked Varric, and there was only one person he could be talking about.

"Sure, she's too responsible not to.” Varric shrugged.

He looked around and observed the other guests. It was a small, but still formal affair, and the nobles' clothes showed it. Lots of silks and laces. Colorful frills were everywhere, and not only on their very own Antivan ambassador. The walls were decorated with the banners of all nations attending, and it looked only a little bit tacky, Varric figured. He honestly didn't give a damn. At least the ale was good.

He noticed a movement in the corner of his eye, but only when he had a second look did he recognize who it was.

 

The Seeker. In a dress.

Maker's balls, the Seeker in a _dress_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really missed the opportunity to dress up my companions for Halamshiral, so Cassandra has to wear a dress in this fic ;). Varric approves.

Midnight blue silk, cut so tightly around her curves that he almost could see her muscles moving with every breath. The bodice was cut low enough to emphasize her chest but decent enough to also loosely cover her arms to the elbows. She wore a necklace with a small pendant, something shiny and very expensive by the look of it. The lack of further jewelry accentuated its exclusiveness and directed the looks at her cleavage. He swallowed dryly. _Damn._

A flared skirt flowed in soft waves to her feet, adorned in matching and surprisingly delicate shoes. He took a sip of his ale and promptly choked when she took a step in their direction and he discovered the slit in her skirt. Andraste's ancient ass, her bare leg was showing with every second step she took. The room was getting noticeably warmer.

"Pick up your jaw and stop staring. She's coming over," Dorian muttered cheerfully, but Varric was too busy admiring the Seeker.

"You look fantastic, Lady Cassandra.” Dorian took one hand and spun her once around. Varric could smell her perfume. Lavender, he noticed, and the impression was chiseled in his brain. He felt a bit dizzier than he should after only one mug, but maybe this one was stronger than usual.

And maybe if he'd put a hand over his eyes nobody could see him anymore. _Right._ Who was he kidding.

"You do know how to dress up nicely," Varric drawled when she came to a stop in front of him, but before he could elaborate, Dorian grabbed her arm and pulled her to a group of guests.

"I want to introduce you to certain people, Cassandra. They’re just here for you, anyway," he said, winking at her, leaving Varric's confused face behind them. _What?_ He decided it was time to get some food and look for friends.

 

Two hours later, he was standing in a strategic corner on the dais with Bull, watching over dancing couples and conversing groups, and trying to catch a glimpse of the Seeker more often than not if he was honest, when Trevelyan came to them.

"Bull. Varric, " she nodded her greetings. “Has anything happened?"

"She's been talking to almost all of them," Bull answered.

"Good." The Inquisitor looked satisfied and sipped from her wine glass.

"What are you two talking about?" Varric watched them, puzzled, getting the uneasy feeling that he was missing out on something of importance.

"Surely you know that Josephine's gotten a handful of requests for Cassandra's hand?" The Inquisitor asked him innocently. She added, "After all, she's royalty and a renowned member of the Inquisition. It would strengthen our alliances."

A look of pure horror rippled across Varric's face. "You can't be fucking serious! You would arrange a _marriage_ for her?!"

"You know I wouldn't force her. Never," Trevelyan replied, cold steel in her eyes. "But if she meets somebody she likes this way... would it matter how it happened?" Her face grew softer. "She isn't one to easily meet new people, and she deserves happiness as much as any of my friends."

"But she's a romantic! She left her home for the Seekers because she did _not_ want an arranged marriage. Does she even know what you are plotting? She will never agree!” he exclaimed.

"And I think she really likes this guy. Look, she's smiling at him," Bull chipped in helpfully.

"She's not smiling, she's clenching her teeth," Varric said darkly after he cast a glower over to them.

"Maybe someone should rescue her. Or rescue the lad from her wrath," the Inquisitor remarked and bent down to Varric's ear.

"Life’s too short for missing out on opportunities," she added, only for him to hear. He recognized a very clear suggestion and it reminded him why she was leading this institution so successfully. She could read people too damn well. He swallowed hard.

Maybe– just maybe, she was right. Maybe the time was right, too.

"I'll go and rescue that guy," he said quickly and missed Bull's and Trevelyan's smug grins when he stomped off.

"Seeker, I’ve been looking for you! You promised me this dance, " Varric said forced-cheerfully, and nodded a quick pardon to Lord Whats-his-face when he dragged Cassandra to the dance floor.

"Wait! I haven't been dancing in ten years," she almost squeaked and pulled in the opposite direction. He was stronger.

"Follow my lead and everything will be fine," he just answered and put them in the correct position before he nudged her in the right direction. She was adorably clumsy at first, but she seemed to remember some basics, because she only stepped on his toes two times. Good thing that she didn't wear her usual boots.

"Nevarran court education coming through?" he asked her after they fell into a surprising ease.

"Actually, this was one of the more enjoyable things. I liked dancing when I was younger. The smooth and controlled movements, just like sword routines, require training and dedication," she said, a bit sadly, at the memory.

They moved in silence for a few heartbeats until Varric became aware of her proximity. Her slender hand in his broad one, the feeling of her skin under the silk of her dress, her smell like lavender, those two perfectly round breasts directly in front of his eyes and her bare thigh brushing against his leg from time to time. It all was just too distracting. He started to sweat and made a desperate attempt to pull his train of thoughts out of the gutter.

"Where have you hidden your weapons? And don't tell me you have none on you, I know you better than that." Her answer was open laughter, and he wondered when the last time was that anybody has been close enough to her to hear her unguarded like that.

"A dagger above my right ankle and another one on the inside of my left upper arm," she said, smiling at him.

"Practical places, easy to access," he nodded. He imagined how it would be to be a knife tied up to her.

_Dwarf! Just... stop it._

"Yes. The Inquisitor instructed the seamstress to add this slit up the side of the dress. To give me more room to move. But I honestly think it only makes men stare at my legs," she sighed.

 _Oh_.

"Can't really blame them, can you? They are great legs, Seeker," he winked at her and managed to not flush.

After all, _he_ liked the view. Andrastes's wonderful tits, he wanted to do more than viewing. He smothered a grin when the compliment made her blush and he imagined her heartbeat quicken as he pulled her a bit closer.

When the second song ended, Varric lead her off the dance floor and said, "I could use some fresh air. Do you want something to drink? Nevarran red wine?" She nodded her assent and they went outside to the court yard with their drinks in their hands. When Cassandra saw how many other people had had the same idea, the corners of her mouth turned down slightly.

"Gardens?"

"Will it be less crowded?" Cassandra's voice sounded concerned. "I need some distance from all those... _people_."

"Her Inquisitorialness closed it so none of the stupid nobles would trample the herbs. They couldn’t distinguish elfroot from roses if their lives depended on it. But I have lockpicks with me. You are not the only one prepared for eventualities." He waggled his eyebrows and the Seeker gave her beautiful laughter once again.

After he made sure to lock the door to the garden again from the inside, they strolled between the plants to the rotunda.

"Soooo," Varric started casually and looked pointedly at an imaginary spot in front of them, "Met anybody interesting tonight?" He felt her tensing. For some entirely unknown reason, that was the first thing that popped out of his mouth. She hesitated and his heart fell, a long drop into the pit of his stomach.

"Those nobles Dorian introduced me to... they were going for an arranged marriage! With. Me. Didn't they learn anything in the past twenty years? Last time somebody tried to talk me into an arranged marriage, I broke his arm!" She spat out, fury burning in her eyes. "The only thing they are interested in is a bond to the Nevarran throne. They are not interested in _me_ , and even less in what I want," she said, and he had to strain his ears to hear the last disappointed words.

"Will you tell stories in the tavern, again?" She then steered the conversation into safer waters. Of course, she just loved books and stories.

"Yeah. You'll hardly be there when I do, since it’s always late in the evening and you..." his voice trailed off and she looked crestfallen. "But I could tell you one now, if you want me to."

Her eyes lit up at that and they shone so brightly from deep within her that something struck Varric, hard and insistent. He stared at her for a second and he forgot about the story when he made a decision. Instead, he took her hand to press a gentle kiss on her scarred knuckles.

"You are beautiful."

"Varric..." her voice sounded tormented.

"Let's see where _our_ story takes us, Seeker. I'd like to find out."

Cassandra didn't say anything for more than a handful of seconds and Varric started to become nervous, wondering if the Inquisitor had read her wrong, wondering if he was hoping for too much.

"I am not a little girl, Varric. I know how most arranged marriages usually work. Maker's breath, I was even offered arrangements exactly like that a few times tonight," she blurted out. "Whatever you have with Bianca, I refuse to be the 'other' woman," she said firmly. "And I won't be second to somebody who already holds your heart. Never."

_Boom._

She definitely knew how to hit his weakest spot. He was silent for a few moments, holding her hand still, even as she tried to carefully extricate it from his. She deserved more than a short answer she'd likely consider lip service anyway.

"Bianca is past. She left a long time ago, and it took me a while to realize that it was she who left me, and not the Carta or her family keeping us apart all those years.” He looked at her and started to sink into her hazel eyes. The light in them confirmed his resolve.

"Too long," he continued, ripping his gaze from her. "And even if she came back tomorrow, how could I trust her again? I can't, and that realization hurt like hell. It's over. It's been over for a long time, and I'm ready to move on." It took him a lot of power to admit and actually articulate what had formed in his mind in the past weeks and months. He placed a quick kiss on the pulse point inside of her wrist, noticing that her resistance had melted away considerably at his words.

"I can't promise you a forever, Cassandra, and my writing skills with poems just suck," he glanced at her and caught a hidden smirk. "But I can pick you flowers and spin stories for you. Get you those pastries you like so much. Hell, I even wrote more of _Swords and Shields_ for you, for what's that worth." That brought utter glee into her eyes and Varric figured he wouldn't get a better chance. He tugged her hand close to his chest and pulled her head down to him.

Her breath felt soothing on his hot skin, and his heartbeat was thrumming through his body. Cassandra's eyes sparkled with these wonderful amber speckles, her look changing from undecipherable to soft. He waited for one or two seconds to give her a chance to pull away if she preferred, and he prayed to whoever might be listening to a dwarf at that very moment that she wouldn't.

Their noses brushed slightly and his fingers stroked her jaw gently. It drove him near-crazy to almost feel her mouth on his, except for that tiny bit of distance that still separated them. Her arms curled softly around his neck, and then her eyes fluttered closed, just like the heroine's eyes always would in one of his novels, and she closed the gap between them.

Her lips were warm and she tasted like passion and bluntness when she deepened the kiss. Her fingers ran through his hair as her tongue traced his lips. He parted them to suck on her lower lip and she pressed her mouth against him, her tongue dancing with his. A content hum escaped her throat when he slid his hand down her waist and pulled her closer to him. In retaliation, she raked her fingers over his chest, firm enough that he felt the trail of her every nail on his skin, and he breathed in sharply.

He was sure he would get punched any second because he couldn't resist letting his hand travel down her thigh to get a grip on the bare skin showing there, but she only made a sound of pleasure and ground her body against his.

 _This feels like something good_ , he thought before a dizzy layer of relief covered his mind, and then he got lost in the way she tasted, the sweet suggestions of her kisses and the feel of her curves beneath his hands.

***

When they got back to the celebrations, only a little bit disheveled (or so they thought), the hall had emptied of most of the guests. Cassandra went straight to the table with the drinks and was fetching another glass of wine and a mug of ale for Varric. He looked after her, grinning smugly about the heat of their kisses still showing on her cheeks.

Varric went to Trevelyan and watched the dance floor with her. "You were right," he told her after a moment, and by the lighting up of her eyes and the smile, he knew she understood. She gave his shoulder an affirmative squeeze and watched Cassandra reappear with drinks in her hand.

"Inquisitor, would you also like something to drink?" She put their glasses on the next table and glanced at Trevelyan.

"Thank you, Cass, but I have to make sure that Bull and Sera behave just half an hour longer, so we can close this without incident. See you later at the Herald's Rest?" She cocked her head to the side questioningly. The Seeker nodded.

"One last dance for tonight, Seeker?" Varric looked up at Cassandra and held his hand out to her.

"Yes. Lead the way," she smiled and placed her hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! For now, it's finished but I might add some chapters at a later time.
> 
> I follow vehlr's headcanon here (I think it was yours!) that Cass liked dancing in her youth :).

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! All comments and kudos are appreciated. English isn't my native language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes :).
> 
> The characters belong to Bioware, I'm just making up stories for them.


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